This is a song about "The blitz"

But the fifteen credits had a nigga off track

You still won't blitz through this defensive line back.

And the thirst, just the worst, it's the curse of the juice!

Silver bullets, purple piff, blue pills, grey goose

When it's all said and done

The bigger the the fun

Sort of remind you, why you don’t court no vagina

So call the coroner or the mortician for the the

And erase my number out the phones of these fake hoes

In the field of the damned, the only sentries are the crows.

The water from the past is the same water in the present

I do not know how that dead body got inside of my trunk

From the bottom to the top

Uhh! yeah smokin yeah i should stop

The board ceo, i'm glad you all

Where the ball meets the wall